A lot of you have asked about my living situation in China and all I have to say is it’s no Thai hut, but it’s a nice enough place to live and for the price (free!) I’d even go as far to say it’s a spectacular place to live. Plus, it came furnished, so a girl can’t complain.
This is me not complaining. Seriously.
I never ever thought I could actually enjoy a cold shower, while standing over my toilet, but it turns out, I can! After an ass-kicking run in this wicked humidity, it’s totally possible. This must be why my parents always told me to never say “never ever…”
It’s a good thing I don’t particularly enjoy cooking (okay, that might be an understatement). If “fun” were in the word “cooking,” this hallway substitute for a kitchen would surely take it all out. But it is nice for eggs and pasta, and maybe I’ll even get really creative after a while when I get sick of Chinese food and need something more…French. Like,. Mmmmm.
The around my bed has yet to prove useful, but I’d be lying if I didn’t claim to like it for the princess vibe it offers. And the purple comforter helps too. There’s still some of my 16-year-old self inside – the girl who decked out her new car with every pink princess decal I could find – but luckily it stays hidden. Kind of.
I didn’t decorate, but somebody left me this lovely Chinese wall hanging. I kept it up to remind me I’m in China, just in case the white-girl-walking stares ever tire and it becomes possible to forget. On second thought, that won’t happen, so I’ll probably be replacing it soon enough with pictures of white-girl-in-Thailand or something equally cool.
The same kind person who left the beautiful art also left me the not-so-beautiful, forever-peeling couch. If you sit near the white hole, you might walk around the rest of the day carrying pieces of couch on the backs of your legs. That would probably never ever happen to me….err.
I wasnt kidding in my last post when I said I had my own washer! It even works. The repair man told me so, after I called it in broken. These things don’t come with a manual, folks.
I would also never lock myself out of my apartment. Nope, never ever.
Okay, there was that one time at my first apartment in Los Angeles when my three roommates and I – yes, all four of us – locked our keys on the opposite side of the door and, because our options were to pay a fortune or wait until morning, we ordered pizza delivered (of course we had our phones, duh!) and had a wonderful, starlit party on the roof of The Metropolitan – one of the taller buildings in downtown L.A. I think we even managed to sleep.
This time, I only had to wait two hours, which is good because the roof wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining alone. However, I would now probably have a newfound respect for my
princess mosquito net. It seems there is a bright side to everything.